Something the Same
by Tempted Mischief
Summary: We all want to share something in common with the people we're surrounded by, even if those people are unaware or unwanting of those similarities. Petunia is made aware of something that is the same from the boy she refuses to let into her heart. Oneshot.


Harry Potter not mine

Harry Potter not mine.

Something the Same

Petunia first noticed it when they sat down at breakfast. She was quite sure that he thought he was being subtle with his glances, as he would glance quickly away if she were to look at him directly. The time their eyes did meet, she turned her nose up, eyes narrowing, and he did not glance again. Through the rest of the meal he sat with his head bowed, chewing on the plain toast he had been given.

She thought nothing more of it until she saw him once again staring that night. This time however it was not at her face, but instead at her neck and shoulders. Every once in a while he would square his own and try to tilt his chin up in an effort to elongate his neck. Petunia didn't take too kindly to this and sent him off early to wash up the dishes he had dirtied when making dinner.

The next few days happened in the same manner. If they were in the same room, Harry would give her furtive glances, as if searching for something. For what, Petunia couldn't say. Most of the time she tried not to think of her nephew, or even think of him as such. He was a representation, not of her sister, but of the man and the world who had, in her mind, caused her death.

But when he did look at her, with the same eyes as her sister, she still found herself looking away with an inexplicable feeling of loathing, contempt, and _fear_. She knew he would turn out like those horrid boys, why bothering growing attached. Somewhere along the way her indifference towards Harry turned to hate.

It was a week later that she finally had enough. The two of them were alone in the kitchen as Vernon had taken Dudley out on a shopping spree for the good mark he had received (not that it was all that good, but an improvement over last terms), and she had been reading the newspaper while he sat clipping the coupons out of another section.

Petunia thought nothing of it when she heard a small rattle of papers, and the sound of the scissors being placed down on the table top. She did however glance up sharply when she felt him move closer, and moving her gaze down, she saw that he was holding up his own hands in much the same manner as she was.

"What?" she snapped, lips pinched and face disapproving.

The boy lowered his hands, and fidgeted, chewing on his bottom lip, until she asked again, "Well, out with it, or get back to cutting."

His voice was low and almost a whisper, but he raised his hands again to mimic hers, and said, "We have the same hands."

A denial, and a mean remark where on her lips when her eyes dropped to his hands and then moved to her own. They were indeed shaped similarly from the well defined wrists, to the long and thin fingers. His, would of course, most likely become larger than hers and mayhap more powerfully built, but the likeness was there. And from what she could tell, he had been looking for it for the past week.

"They're the same as your grandmother's," she replied, pensive and unsure why she had told him that. But Lily had their father's hands, not their mother's, and Petunia wasn't sure how to take that she shared something in common with the boy, besides blood and the hidden and unseen familial similarities. Those, after all, were the reason he lived under their roof.

As if remembering herself, her eyes cut back to his, and she almost flinched from the desperate look in the green eyes staring at her. Petunia was not without a heart, and she could see the need for acceptance, and for love that shined in her sister's child's eyes. But he would leave, as surely as her sister had left. He was seven now, which meant in four years, he would attend that school.

Vernon had some idea that he could somehow stamp the magic out of Harry, but Petunia knew the truth. Harry would leave, he would return during the summers, and then after graduating she would not see him again. There was no reason to love him, or get emotionally involved, and so she ignored him.

"Back to work," she said, her voice attempted to align itself into a cutting demand, but instead sounded shaken and confused.

The small hands lowered as did his eyes and he returned his seat, the sound of the scissors cutting through paper filling the room again, but it was now Petunia who cast glances at the hands that did the work.

And wondered if she were really doing the right thing in guarding her heart, and breaking another's in much the same way Lily had broken hers.

--

There it is, that took.. 15 minutes to write? I had it in my head and wanted to write it out. Just a small short  Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know if you did!


End file.
